


Trailing After Her

by SansThePacifist



Series: Naruto Stories [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arbutus - I love only you, Blood, Character Death, F/M, Fear, Flower Language, Haemophobia, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I love him, I tried my best, Jiraiya x Tsunade, Major character death - Freeform, Non-Canonical, One-Sided Love, Other, Panic, Second Shinobi War, actually there were none with jiraiya and tsunade for the disease, and he knows the best isnt him so he stands to the side, he just wants to best for Tsunade, he tries his best, he'd wait centuries for tsunade, he's so sweet, i at least tried, im not sure if i did it right, jiraiya writes a story that never happened in canon, language of the flowers, one-sided, there isnt nearly enough of this fic nor the hanahaki disease!!, trailing arbutus, unreturned affections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansThePacifist/pseuds/SansThePacifist
Summary: She laughed, but it was hysterical, tears falling too much too quick. Yet she opened it, wiping the tears away with a hand, and realized the writing was terrible. She had to be at optimal capacity. Using her time to compose herself, she read carefully, examining every stroke. His voice nagged at the back of her mind, reminding her that a story isn’t easily enjoyed if it’s all serious. She fumbled briefly before getting back to work, biting her cheek to hold back the tears.It seems, she realized with a shattered heart, she has a penchant for killing those who love her.The Icha Icha series seemed a lot more interesting now that Jiraiya wasn’t there to brag about it.//Hanahaki disease Fic//





	Trailing After Her

The white haired sage was in love. He knew he was in love, so he needed a distraction. He needed something to keep his mind off of everything. Like hot women and hot springs. He was young when the crush first started, falling head over heels with just how amazing she was. The crush soon turned into puppy love. He did almost anything she asked him, but also got himself in trouble to be looked at. He wanted her attention so badly that he would practically die for it, but he wasn’t strong enough.

He was strong, that was for sure, but he was also an idiot. He had terrible chakra control and it took far too long to learn how to actually do stuff.

 

She got a boyfriend and he felt terrible rather quickly. His chest felt too full, but it didn’t matter, the war was closer than ever and he had to fight. He had to.

He sat down, trying to breathe easier, and realized vaguely that it felt like something was blocking his lungs. He slammed his hand on his chest and registered, through the need to reclaim air, that there was a white bud. His eyes widened as he twirled the small bead, looking around to see if there was anywhere else it could have come from. Flowers of that sort didn’t grow in that area. He felt a chill go down his spine.

 

Through the war, it was hard to get somewhere to relax, when they could, it was a joy. A hot spring? Three people on guard, three relaxing, switch. Only female in a crew? Good luck. Kunoichi were rare, he realized with a morbid amusement. Most died after a little while because the males treated them as bait. Which, frankly, was bullshit. They needed as many Shinobi as they could get to end the war.

 

Her boyfriend died and he noted the way she flinched when she sighted blood. He hugged her, even when his chest ached stronger than ever, to comfort. She would sob and he would have to close his eyes, willing himself not to kiss the tears away and sweep her into a world of sweet nothings. His heart ached for her and the pain in his lungs tripled. Soon enough he coughed up a full flower. He stared at it, twirling the pure white blossom in search of something, anything.

For some reason, he felt like the flower held an accurate enough meaning.

 

The next time he fought, white flowers were heaved into a bush. Tsunade rubbed his back, unwilling to be there, the touch was hesitant, but soothing enough. He grimaced and picked up the flower, going to speak before clearing his throat. “Do you know what this is, princess?”

“A trailing arbutus.” He pondered for a moment before thanking her, eyes shining. Her lips twitched down and his heart dropped with them.

 

He noticed that whenever Tsunade was closer, the pain wouldn’t hurt as much, but it still did. It always would. Unrequited love, he mused, was truly torture. It left him unable to breathe and the words he wished to say were held back by lungs full of flowers. The war was as close to over as it could be at the time and he relished in that fact. He wrote stories of an unrequited man’s affections, noting halfway through the girl was awfully like the princess and the male him. He frowned at the ink stained pages, wondering briefly if he should even dare himself to write such a story, before continuing. For all he could know, it could be his last book, so he would try to make it his best. None could best his first book, in both his and few other’s eyes, but he supposed second best was better than last.

He finished the book, heaving into a basket with a hand to his chest, with an open ending. The woman only turned on her heels to the confession, it never really said which way. He packaged the book to be sent to a publisher, giving a bittersweet smile at the last of the scenes.

 

* * *

 

_“I’ll wait for you,” the man called out. “However long you want, however long you need!” The lady turned her head to him, body facing the side, and her long hair flowing. “If you want a friend, I’ll give you one. If you want a husband, I’ll be one. If you want me to leave.” His breath hitched and he soothed it over quickly, “I’ll leave for you.” His love may not hold the same affections for him, and the ache in his chest spoke wonders, but he would always hold her dear. He stood firm, holding no regret for his words. If she wished for him to watch her get married to someone else, if it meant he got to stay by her side, he would. “I just had to let you know, how much I love you.”_

 

_She turned on her heels._

 

* * *

 

The book got accepted with ease, enjoying the change in genre from smut to a lovely romance. He hoped, somewhat, that none would see the similar traits to the Sannin. He coughed into another basket, noting with morbid curiosity the blood that covered the white petals.

 

Tsunade visited him with a book in hand and talked to him with sad eyes. He smiled and nodded, gave her advice, and hugged her when she cried. She was grieving over her brother and lover, of course she would be. He closed her eyes and held her close, wishing there was anything more he could do.

Instead, he stayed quiet and let her cry, ignoring the nagging feeling of flowers pushing themselves up his airway.

 

“The hanahaki disease..” She stared at her friend, watching at the tube gave him air. His chest rose and fell, his face twisted even in his sleep. Jiraiya was.. He was someone she could depend on, yet when he needed her the most, she wasn’t there. Her shoulders dropped as tears began to well up in her eyes. That very friend of hers began making strangled sounds, choking on bloodied flowers. She needed to move, to help, but all she could do was shake and watch before running out to call for a nurse. Who could possibly not love that man, she asked herself, eyes overflowing all to quick.

Was he to die after such torture? She wouldn’t stand it. She _couldn’t_ lose him too. They sedated him, before pulling the pipe out, and pushed him onto his side. She walked back into the room, steeling herself for the sight of blood. It was much more prominent than she thought it would be, making her breath quicken and fingers shake, knees becoming all too weak. She walked forward anyways and brushed some hair aside, knowing that if he didn’t consent to surgery he would die. The tears finally fell and she collapsed, trying to wipe them away hurriedly.

Biting the bottom of her lip, she braced herself once more for the sight only to feel like puking at the little bit of blood dripping down his chin. She moved her arm forward to wipe it away before hesitating. Her eyes flickered down to him and she swallowed. She had to do this. She had to do it right. She dragged the cloth across his chin and felt a sharp sense of relief when it was gone. She couldn’t relax yet though, she coated her hands in chakra and began to heal him.

 

His eyes opened to the princess trying her best and failing and they crinkled into a smile. “Hey princess.” She stiffened before relaxing considerably. “What’s with that look?” Her eyes filled up.

“I thought you were going to die I cant-” Her head lowered, bangs falling just barely enough to hide the hurt in her eyes. “I can’t lose you.” He laughed, it was quiet and rough, clearly not used recently within that time, but it felt nice. Her head dropped onto the bed beside him, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart.

“I wouldn’t leave you anytime on purpose, Tsunade.” Without being told that is. He could see a smile tugging at her lips.

“Then don’t.” Another laugh with a brief cough.

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

 

 

  


She stared at a grave and wondered where exactly she went wrong, how it led to him coughing himself to death. She clutched a box she refused to open - even after the whole year - to her chest, wondering what could be inside. What could he have possibly gifted her in-case of his death? It was bright and she couldn’t sense anyone nearby so she opened it slowly. The seal broke with just a small nudge - a chakra sensor, she noted - and a tear. She winced at the sound before taking the lid off, searching it for any hidden objects. Finding none, she was satisfied, looking at the contents of the box. Imagine her surprise when she found a bunch of books - journals, she mused with an amused huff - that started from his early years. Her hands shook and she wondered if she should start again later before continuing. She gingerly picked up the hold book, her eyes widening as she recognized it.

She laughed, but it was hysterical, tears falling too much too quick. Yet she opened it, wiping the tears away with a hand, and realized the writing was terrible. She had to be at optimal capacity. Using her time to compose herself, she read carefully, examining every stroke. His voice nagged at the back of her mind, reminding her that a story isn’t easily enjoyed if it’s all serious. She fumbled briefly before getting back to work, biting her cheek to hold back the tears.

It seems, she realized with a shattered heart, she has a penchant for killing those who love her.

 

The Icha Icha series seemed a lot more interesting now that Jiraiya wasn’t there to brag about it.


End file.
